


Home

by Prisioux



Series: AU Ressurection-Daenerys [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Daenerys Resurrection Week, Daenerys Targaryen Is Not a Mad Queen, F/M, Resurrection, eastern
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-06
Updated: 2020-04-06
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:48:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23511094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prisioux/pseuds/Prisioux
Summary: Daenerys came, conquered and then...was killed.Her murderer, Jon Snow, reflects on his life and mistakes. The greatest of them: to have protected one side of his family at the cost of the other.He is alone, he is cold and he is miserable- and he does not want to change a single thing about his situation because this is his punishment, and he deserves every bit of it.Until the day comes and the Starks come knocking with surprising news.
Relationships: Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen
Series: AU Ressurection-Daenerys [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1691692
Comments: 51
Kudos: 120





	Home

Jon had not seen much on his trip south. This oversight was not due to his heavy heart and even heavier head, but to the frenetic pace his journey: no time for pleasantries, the Starks needed Jon, and they needed him fast.

But now that he arrived at his final destination- King´s Landing- Jon asked himself whether his relatives had not tried hard to hide their failure from his eyes.

Westeros was a dying land.

Jon doubted the Queen in the North and the King in the South would him to doubt the decision he made many years ago. Their safety had been paramount to him back then, but there was also this unspoken promise they would do a good job- right the wrongs of war, clean long festering wounds, establish a fair, gracious rule...

The reality, however, was the opposite. Bran and Sansa, although very intelligent in their own ways, failed.

and they failed where their nemesis- Daenerys- had succeeded. Meereen, the land she had ruled, was thriving; Westeros, the land she came close to rule, but never managed to, was in dissarray.

“Ask me again in ten years” the vile half-man quipped to Jon back then. 

Well, not even seven full years and the answer was clear. 

***

“Whenever she goes, evil men die and we cheer her for it.” 

Tyrion, of course, meant this as a bad thing. But why, pray tell, Jon should have asked, executing criminals like the Tarlys was such a bad thing? 

That Tyrion Lannister would take exception of this practice was telling.

He was, in retrospect, an evil man himself. 

Tyrion Lannister was only looking after his own class and, in a sense, so were the Starks.

They had come for him Beyond the Wall. Sansa would have been happy to be rid of her brother had Jon deserted to be among the Free Folk, as her letters- the letters she sent and he would not answer- implied.

Even as a bitter woman, Sansa had always been prone to romanticization. Jon had quickly explained to her the ways of the Free Folk- he was respected, yes, but not accepted. 

This Sansa elected to ignore in favor of a fantasy that excepted her of participating in the downfall of her cousin.

Jon shook his head. Sansa was _dumb._ Nevermind she managed to convince even Arya of her intelligence and had maneuvered to get her Crown, succeeding in the end after all those years of “learning” under Cersei Lannister and Littlefinger, Sansa Stark, given the right incentive, would gladly believe in an impossibly unlikely dream if said dream made her feel less rotten than she actually was.

Jon took a deep breath. He was doing again- blaming others for his failings. Sansa saw an opportunity to make her aspirations come true and took it. Had Jon not been a fool and bite the bait, things would never had gone the way they did. Had Jon been firmer with Sansa she would have understood the message and leave him be. But he decided to mildly scold Sansa and never speak of it again. 

Sansa saw this as a sign that Jon was weak. In the end, he supposed, he could not blame a she wolf for taking advantage of an unfit opponent., the only thing staying between her and her prey.

***

In her small, ladylike mind, Sansa thought she was being generous. The final letter Jon bothered to read stated that he was “ free to come and go in his position as Lord Commander” and that she was happy to deal with the Lord Steward during her cousin´s "longs" absences. In her estimation, she was going to great lenghts to keep Jon´s crimes from coming to light in payment for the role he played in the retaking of Winterfell- the memory of the War for the Dawn all but forgotten, as it paled in comparison to Sansa´s greatest triumph, at least in her mind and the book she had commissioned.

Jon supposed it would have granted him a degree of satisfection to write back and explain once and for all: he was a kneeler and the free folk would not accept him as long as he was a kneeler. They called themselves free folk for a reason: they were free of the servitude bonds most of Westeros were under and Jon was nothing if not a servant to Duty.

Not to mention, had Jon not become an oathbreaker and a kinslayer in the end? Those were things the free folk took seriously too. While the decimation of their numbers and the new realities beyond the wall made the rules even less strict, Jon´s status among the free folk would always remain uncertain had he deserted, unless he took a wife and fathered children with one of their own.

But _this_ was something Jon had no wish or intention of ever doing. He would not desert The Wall, not because he believed in the Night´s Watch or in his Duty, but because it was his punishment. 

Jon did not deserve an ounce of happiness. Contentment? Yes, he could live with that. After a successful hunt with Ghost or a day well spent teaching the recruits how to properly wield a sword and defend themselves, Jon Snow would feel better, yes. But the pain...the pain he carried within himself would never be gone. Because he had killed a woman in the most cowardly, disgusting way possible. A woman who had saved his life at least three times...a woman who, even after being broken down and reduced to a shadow of herself had offered him half of all she had. A woman who had never used him, who had never lied to him, who had told him exactly what would happen if…

To even entertain the idea that Jon would desert, find himself a wilding woman to warm his bed, and never think about what he had done proved that Sansa Stark never paid attention to the youngster he was and the man he had become.

***

In the end, it was Ygritte who understood Jon better than anyone: 

“ You know _nothing_ , Jon Snow.”

While time might not heal all wounds, it certainly helped placed things into perspective. The Night´s Watch had no reason to exist other than to become what it had always been: a colony for criminals, a place where people would go to be forgotten. 

At some point, Sansa stopped writing. He never bothered to ask the Steward about them- he knew Satin would ask what he needed to know to reply to the letters and leave him out of it. 

All Jon knew was that no letters came addressed personally him from Winterfell and the silence suited him just fine. 

Bran, on the other hand, had never- ever-, wrote. Jon would have thanked the Old Gods for small mercies, but after speaking to Tormund on the subject of the religion he had been raised in, he had finally realized that Bran was, by all states and purposes, an Old God himself. 

Since Jon had seen to what extremes such deities that inhabited that body went to destroy and remake the world as it pleases them, he had stopped believing in, praying to or mentioning the Old Gods altogether.

The transformation was then, complete; Jon became not only a man without honour, but also without Gods.

***

The last person from his past life to _stop_ writing to Jon was Samwell- and only after Jon wrote the “ maester” a terse, small missive, asking for the one-sided communication to stop.

The only letter that gave Jon a measure of solace in all those years had been written by an old friend saying his goodbyes. Ser Davos had only tolerating working under the man responsible for the gruesome death of not only his son but thousands of soldiers at Blackwater Bay for less than six months. Being the good person that he was, Ser Davos had tried to help the Small Council rebuild Westeros, only to clash repeatedly with the Master of Coin and conclude he had become “ too old for this bullshit”

Ser Davos left the council of his cousin with Jon´s blessing and retired to the Stormlands with his wife and surviving sons.

So, when the soldiers bearing the Stark sigil came with two signed parchments demanding Jon to appear at King´s Landing “ at his earliest and most urgent convenience” , both parties were surprised: the soldiers, because they were lead to believe the Lord Commander would be “ ranging beyond the Wall” and not sitting comfortably on his desk, personally checking the ledges of the past month, and Jon, because he had supposed his cousin had finally given up on him after six years of silence.

Jon shrugged. His first reaction was to say “ thanks, but no” and send his poor steward in his place. Satin would surely look forward to a trip south…

Then it dawned on him that. If Bran and Sansa had gone to all this trouble to find him, it was because they had plans for him.

_ Not satisfied in completely shredding my life and destroying hers, they come again, for second servings. _

Jon eagerly started packing that same night. He was, if not angry, mildly curious. What would Bran the broken, or Sansa, the she-wolf of Winterfell, want with a kinslayer?

Who more they wanted Jon to kill so that their hands remained clean?

***

Jon had not paid much attention to news that did not concern his little, snow-covered world. Once in a blue moon Satin would make a comment that would confirm to Jon that things were not going so well for his wolfish cousins, but since he truly did not give a fuck, he would not ask for particulars.

He was puzzled by the "invitation" and assumed he would gather more information on his way south. But it was not to be. The vessel they sent him North was the fastest, most comfortable boat Jon had ever laid his eyes upon. The stops at White Harbour and the Fingers, however, were even faster, with Jon barely leaving his cabin. He also took to drinking- alone and unbothered. 

Ghost became as morose as his owner and seldom complained about the lack of exercise those days, as if he  _ knew  _ something and did not want to comment on it.

The pretense of normalcy created by this artificial way of life ceased the moment Jon set foot at King´s Landing and was met by the new Lord Commander, Ser Podrick :

***

“Is Ser Brienne undisposed?” Jon asked politely, more as an afterthought in all honesty.

Ser Podrick replied in a low voice: “Fulfilling her Duty to Tarth. She is its Lady now.”

Later on, Jon would learn that Brienne had personally asked the Starry Sept- the now High Seat of the Faith- for release of her holy vows in order to return to Tarth and rule in her father´s stead, which was promptly given.

Jon knew little of the ins and outs of the Faith, but it seemed to him that such requests for dismissal of vows were complicated affairs; as he walked through the city market- vendors with very little to sell and even fewer customers- he listened to so many aggrievances by the mouths of the small folk that he almost- _ almost _ \- feared for his life.

***

The Red Keep felt like a tomb.

_ Not even after the Council was that empty.  _ For all the talk of the destruction brought up by Daenerys, the did not even burnt half of the Castle. Jon remembered she circling the city around with fire. It was methodical. Ruthless, yes- she was killings thousands. But she was also aware of Tyrion´s betrayal and making sure the woman who killed her best friend would not make it out of that city alive- Daenerys knew that Cersei would not get a happy ending with her dear Jaime and a baby just because Tyrion Lannister had decided that evil people, after all, also had rights, and she was set to see the fight play out to the bitter end- with the death of the evil, unloved Lannister Queen.

But it was not to be. Cersei had not used all the wildfire to burn the Sept- and the green explosions were four times as deadly than the red ones.

Now, seven years later, Jon was met not by a city full of opportunities to rebuild and regrow, but by a refugees´s camp where the inhabitants seemed to have given up and the tent´s dwellers were just waiting for the rain to stop to move away.

Still, even at the lowest point in its over three hundred years history, King´s Landing was still the capital and the Red Keep the residence of the King: Jon was given spacious, luxurious quarters, where he was fed and watered and fell asleep that night.

He woke up very early, as it was his custom, going straight to the water basin to wash his face. No sign of the male servant that had been assigned to him, Jon wandered off. He walked around without being disturbed, just watched by a legion of knights and guards standing up the hallways that led to the kitchens. Their faces told stories: they were just there. They did not care to do their jobs as it was supposed to. Even at the recognizable northern faces Jon found, there was no trace of pride of serving their King, no special sense of Duty that bound those people to their Lieges.

This, Jon reminded himself, was the reality. The people who serve take after the people they serve. Had he not seen the guards under King Robert behaving as greedily and selfishly as the fat man himself? He also remembered how well the Hound served the boy prince, as if he wanted to slap the mediocre monster every time Joffrey opened his mouth to speak. The smug faces of the Cersei´s Queensguard, those spiteful souls, ready to trade in the future of the Realm for personal profit, were they not the reflection of their drunken, foul-mouthed queen?

And then, Jon remembered Dragonstone. 

Their faces.

_ Her face. _

Daenerys and her band of brave, loyal and wild soldiers, ready to die and kill for her.

_ They followed her because she was the Queen they chose. _

Daenerys had been good. She had been ruthless, but fair. Strong because she believed it was the only way to protect the weak. And she had been all those things, truly and fully, until Jon came to her- and took away, unwillingly and unwittingly, everything from her.

All but the love and the loyalty of her followers and true allies, as he discovered at the Dragonpit.

In his heart, Jon knew that Bran could not say the same.

Those impassible, emotionless faces were a reflection of Bran´s, the impassible, emotionless godlike creature Jon wanted nothing to do with.

***

As the day turned into night and no servant came to escort Jon to either the Great Hall to feast or to the King´s chambers to dine, he started to pondering whether he was actually a prisoner, not a guest.

Although he knows King Bran cares little for niceties, Queen Sansa, who he had been informed had arrived a sennight before, believed courtesy was a lady´s armor and would never behave in such undignified way with an honored guest.

It was then that the door opened and Samwell- still fat, still wearing Maester´s robes, a ridiculous single round link of silver hanging from a long, golden string- emerged carrying a book: “ Apologies Jon for the delay, but we have been busy a---”

“No need to apologize. I see the city for myself and I heard what has been said on the streets. It is clear as day you have a myriad of problems to contend with and any delays in receiving me is understandable, However, what I fail to understand is why I have been brought here in the first place. _Why?_ ”

Samwell´s face reddened, his eyes as big as saucers.  _ What was he expecting? A warm reunion?  _

“ I believed I asked you something, Samwell.”

After a couple of attempts at producing sound, Samwell finally recovered from the shock: “Well, straight to the point. I see. Your Grace needs your assistance with something of utmost importance to the Realm, a very dangerous mission only you could succeed. You are to be received in an hour. Ser Podrick will escort you to the Small Council, where you will be briefed and I cannot say more, Jon.”

If Samwell expected more questions from Jon, he was disappointed.

What he said was more than enough to confirm Jon´s suspicions.  _ Ah, so it is that they need me to do their dirty work.  _

As Jon remained silent, Samwell, helped himself by pushing a nearby chair and sitting, making himself comfortable. “ I thought we could use this hour to get reacquainted. It has been many years. Little Jon has grown...we tell him stories about you. Although I understand you are not happy to be back...but we are happy to see you, Jon.”

There it was- a glimpse of his former friend. Jon almost smiled at Samwell´s attempt at sympathy and levity, but now he knew better: even Sam- poor, clumsy, insecure, fat Samwell Tarly -saw Jon as means to an end and would not hesitate in using the disgraced man once again.

Ignoring Jon´s cold stare and suddenly animated by the sound of his own voice, for the next twenty minutes, Samwell continued speaking about his trials and tribulations, about how Gilly had been disappointed in King´s Landing, from the perennial clouded weather to the mean people of the streets. Or how the difficulties of teaching little Sam to read and write led him to communicate with The Citadel, only to be rebuffed by the “ grey rats”, who apparently (  _ apparently? _ ) took offense at Sam´s present position, and refused to send in books or assist in any way. And how this refusal led to his decision to send the boy to the Septons who cared for disabled children, a decision Gilly had been against at first, for it meant her son would be at least two days away from her since King Bran would only allow small and simple Septs to be rebuilt at the city, but orphanages, motherthouses and invalid's houses only outside city walls…

It was only when Samwell realized Ghost had fallen asleep and Jon was not very far behind that he stopped his incessant blabbing. 

“ Am I bothering you, Jon?”

The answer came not soon enough :

“Yes, you are.”

Now visibly uncomfortable- hurt, even- Samwell stood up. “ My apologies, Lord Commander. I forget myself sometimes.”

As Jon offered no retort, Samwell became incensed: “ Have you at least read the book I sent you all those years ago, Jon? Or is the book forgotten at Castle Black´s library?”

This time, Jon laughed. “ My, my Samwell, I know you forgot about the vows you took as Black Brother and, since I am guilty of the same crime, I can hardly blame you myself, but good grief, man- have you also lost all memory of your time spent there? Don´t you know we cannot abide waste of any form, that we have to make do with what we have? Well, one night I was running out of kindling, so I made use of your generous gift- and by generous gift, what I truly mean is the opposite.”

Truth be told, Jon tried to give his friend the benefit of the doubt. Samwell was grieving and had not been rational when he spoke out of turn. Back then, Jon had forgiven his friend for the pain he saw and did not seek to make a situation even worse by taking action and reprimanding Samwell. 

Again, like with Sansa, Samwell saw Jon´s inaction as tacit complicity. At least, he did not offer Daenerys any open resistance, but this could very well be due to his passive nature and not an admission that what he had tried to do had been wrong. 

However, the fact remained that Samwell had tried to use Jon for his unreasonable, personal revenge. Had been only that single act of transgression, and on account of Gilly´s pregnancy and their problematic relationship, Jon had decided to part from Samwell as friends, not foes.

Until that book of lies came to his hands and Jon lost the little amount of respect he had for Samwell.

“Daenerys might have been the Mad king´s daughter, but you, Samwell Tarly, was Lord Tarly´s son through and through.”

Jon had hoped the jab would serve to send Samwell out of his chambers as fast as lightning, but for some reason, the false Maester had seemingly grown some spine. “ Mayhaps you too inherited something of your own father, after all,  _ Aegon _ . “

For the second time that night, Jon laughed. “ I wish I was more like him. Rhaegar would not have blinked an eye at sleeping with his aunt. But is madness what you are speaking of, Samwell, when you accuse me of being like my father? All I know of Targaryen madness was from books maesters wrote- maesters like you call yourself. Personally, I have not seen it. I met two and they were both among the sanest people I have ever known. No, Maester Aemon was not mad- and yet you write as if he was. No word on his wisdom, on his measured advice. You only mentioned that moment of him mistaking you for his brother in. and what you wrote about the destruction of King´s Landing did not seem correct to me, either. It took a full week to control the wildfire and, all things considered, it killed more people than the dragon did. But since you were _not_ there, I could have forgiven you for the dramatic licenses you took, had you not made me into some sort of hero for killing _her_.”

The book, as Samwell had explained in his note, had started as the pet project of an Archmaester of the Citadel. Samwell, in his position of Power, had contributed with the passages on the battle of King´s Landing- and by reading the passages, Jon had decided that the old friendship with the young man of The Reach was among the casualties of that sorrowful attack.

Face contorted with rage and guilt, Jon spoke his last words about the damm book: ” If this story you wrote has a villain,Samwell, his name is Jon Snow. “

Samwell shook his head in desperation: “Mayhaps bringing you here was not a good idea, Jon. You sound as if you regret killing her---the butcher of King´s Landing. That day...she burned thousands. She had knowledge of the wildfire according to Tyrion. She knew the risks. Her madness, her thirst for power- I was not lying. There were signs. You did a good thing Jon. So, why did you kill her, if not to save the world from her madness?  _ Why  _ have you killed the woman you loved if not for duty? ”

“ My sisters “ Jon answered.

At the admission, Jon then fell into silence. He would have cried had he been not as angry as he was. Angry at Sansa. Angry at Arya. Furious with Brandon. Disappointed in himself.

Jon had a debt with Lord Stark. But in the end, repaying this debt had taken away everything which was truly his. Not satisfied in sticking a dagger in Daenerys heart, Jon sat back and allowed lies to be spread about her. 

And both acts benefited whom? Lady Catelyn Tully´s spoiled brats. The murder granted both Bran and Sansa Crowns while the book served to cement the illusion of legitimacy of their rules.

And as for Arya...not even the pain of his final goodbye erased the tainted memories of their last recent interactions: she was a Stark, she made no secret she would have gone against Jon had he chosen to become Daenerys family and would only take advice from Sansa- and Sansa only.

Oddly, Samwell took Jon´s answer as a sign that his former friend was not as far gone as he was starting to believe and tried to appease him:

“ I am very, very sorry for what I said, Jon. I understand now why you burnt my book. Of course you do not see yourself as a hero, but truly,  _ you are _ . I also cannot fault your reason for putting her down. Your sisters are your family and it is reasonable that you would place their security before your own, or of people whose faces are unknown to you. So, the book still stands on the side of true, although….not as I have imagined.”

Jon allowed Samwell to leave undisputed. People would believe what they wanted to believe. In this, Samwell was as prone to romanticism as Sansa, while Bran and Arya---they simply had no time for sentimentality.

_ *** _

Jon was not left to wonder whether Samwell´s meeting was kept private- because it was not. As soon as he entered the Small Council room and was first met by a very emotional Sansa, who hugged him so tightly it might have killed him, and a surprisingly warm Arya, whose embrace, while not as deadly, was as much as intense as Sansa´s, Jon _ knew  _ they would be using the safety of his sisters as the greatest motivator for forcing him to accept this mission- whatever it was.

_ Probably they want me to kill somebody for them. A Commander of the Night´s Watch. A man of undisputed neutrality, of whom people barely think of- a perfect killer. _

The question that bothered Jon was who would be his target?

And why not use Arya, who was a trained assassin after all?

_ It is somethingh else then...something only I can offer them.  _

But what? What would they want from Jon after all these years?

Jon mentally revisited the images and first impressions of King´s Landing, combining those with the few pieces of political news he had been gathering lately. 

Since arriving at King´s Landing, Jon had been confronted with the realities of Stark rule: nobody liked the Starks. Why would they? At the end of the day, they were not as different from the Lannisters as they believed themselves to be.

And in truth, only half the North could be considered loyal, especially now that they had been at war for so long... Queen Yara and Prince Maron of House Martell left the Great Council already in cohorts. They had played Tyrion Lannister for a fool, voted the way the half-man suggested, returned home and starting honing the details of their alliance. Dorne had the land and the contacts in Essos, but no ships; The Iron Islands had ships, but no respectability. Together, they established a merchant partnership and, once they had enough gold in their pockets and- _possibly_ \- secret allies in Houses Hightower and Redwyne, they both declared their independence from the south, but not before constantly attacking northern lands.

And Sansa´s allies in the south? Other than Bran, they wanted nothing to do with the “ she wolf”. Lord Edmure Tully was at least polite in his excuses, addressing Sansa as his “adored Niece, The Queen”. Lord Robin Arryn , however, surprised everybody- even Jon- by claiming that The Vale had already fulfilled his alliance to House Stark by assisting in the retaking of Winterfell, fighting off Ice Demons and recognizing Queen Sansa´s rule. If the rumors are true, this coldness emerged from Robin growing suspicions of Sansa´s part on the “ suicide” of his late mother.

And while Jon came to despise Sansa, _this_ he could not believe: she would not have sunken so low as to defend Littlefinger when she could have easily gotten rid of him early on and still claimed the Vale Army without his aid.

***

On the top of his head, Jon tried to come up with names of tried and tested generals, loyal to House Stark that were both well respected and well-liked enough in order to lead troops south of the Neck. 

To his own shock, Jon had to agree there was  _ nobody. _

From The North, only House Manderley would be well received in the south on the account of their southron origins and faith. But with the passing of Lord Manderley , his granddaughter had inherited. Young Lord Umber could have been a possibility, had Sansa not sent the boy back to his Keep to die. The Houses that survived had either hardly recovered, like the Talharts, or survived precisely because their respect for House Stark was nominal , like Lady Dustin, who sent to war the bare minimum number she dared.

Howland Reed still lived, but his love for House Stark had died along with his son, Jojen, and the mistreatment of Meera- their undying loyalty repaid with blood and heartbreak. 

As for the Six Kingdoms, Jon could have laughed if the situation had not placed him in this awkward predicament. All in all, he blamed not only Sansa and Bran, but also Tyrion, who was supposed to have known better and rebuild Westeros to its former glory and yet, when given a final opportunity to do so, chose to wreck things further by naming only the wrong people for the jobs.

Bronn of the Blackwater as Lord Paramount of the Reach? Even Jon, a northern bastard with no real talent for politicking, knew it was a mistake.

The Reach took pleasure in disrespecting Lord Bronn at every turn. While they did pay their taxes in goods and were always very formal and courteous with the Crown´s envoys, as time went on it became clear that they were merely buying time- and they could afford the price, as sending grains to King´s Landing was cheaper than fighting another war.

Tyrion Lannister was hated by the Westerlands and, in his efforts to make himself loved and accepted, he gave his countrymen way more space than he should have, which resulted in the opposite result: if they had followed Lord Tywin Lannister _precisely because_ he was ruthless enough to drown two rebelling noble Houses, why would they obey his weak and deformed son for being weak and foolish ?

Crownlands, Riverlands, Stormlands... could not offer what King Bran needed. Even back at Winterfell, Gendry had been more helpful as an armorer than as a soldier. Edmure Tully was not the only one in his country to have no fond memories of the time he fought for the Starks, besides having a terrible reputation as war commander.

***

So lost he was in his thoughts, that Jon ignored the presence of Bran altogether. As if in a dream, him not really listening to what was being said, the meeting started.

It was only when Tyrion Lannister - whom Jon did not notice at first - took the word, that Jon woke up.

“We asked you here Lord Commander, because what you started must be finished, lest your sisters and brother be at peril: they say Daenerys lives and that she continues her mission atop her dragons."

***

_ Daenerys was alive. _

_ She was alive. _

Jon´s heart racing, his hands shaking- could it be true? Was she alive? Could she forgive him?

“She survived ? How is this possible?”

Tyrion scowled. “ Don´t be ridiculous! Had she survived, we would have heard of her a long time ago. Bloodthirsty as she was, she would not have passed the chance to enact some revenge.” The dwarf sipped from his goblet, lips slightly reddish. “ Sailors tell their tales and her followers in Essos have their own agendas. Most likely one of those Red Priestesses found a lysenni bed slave, trained her for a couple of years, and went about to find Drogon. Dragons do not need to be bonded to be ridden. There are other ways- magical ways.”

“Besides “ Sansa picked up where Tyrion had left off “ Bran has not seen  _ her _ .”

“So, if she is not alive...if you do not believe the rumors, why do you need me to, as you say, finish the job?”

Bran, who has been silent until that moment, spoke. “ The dragon, Jon. You have dragon blood. Whoever is riding this dragon is not important. What is important is that you kill the idea of Daenerys being alive. For that, you need to kill the dragon. You are the only one who can get close enough. Drogon did not kill you even when you killed _ her _ .”

_Kinslayer. Queenslayer_. Now they want to make him a dragonslayer too.

He might have tarnished this side of him, might have doomed the family of his father by ending their line- he would never father a son or a daughter- but Jon would be damned if he was to kill a dragon too.

“I cannot do it. This will bring great destruction upon us. Ned Stark killed a direwolf and lost not only his head, but everything. Tis as Tyrion says: if she was alive, she would have made her presence known. There is no need for me to leave my exile and no excuses for you not to fight your own wars, as surely there is one brewing on the horizon.”

“So you do know about our difficulties.” The steel in Sansa´s voice, the hidden accusation- it was all there, as it had always been. “ We are asking for your help as a family; do not make us demand your assistance as your rulers, Jon. “

Arya , as per usual, sided with her legitimate family, using what they perceived as Jon´s weakness to help her sister in what she could : “We will never be safe if the dragon is still alive, Jon. You should know this better than anyone.” 

A smile so small Jon might have missed of his cousin had not took a couple of steps closer, Arya added as if it would make any difference. “ You will not have to do this alone. I will go with you.”

Jon was about to walk out, to leave not only that room, but that city, that country, that ...family, when a thought crossed his mind:

_ She was alive. They are wrong. She is alive. _

That moment, Jon made a choice:

He would learn how to lie.

“Fine, I will do it. I will leave Westeros and go east. To protect you. To save my family..”

***

Daenerys Targaryen had died at the Red Keep, the castle her ancestors had built a century after they fled Valyria to avoid perishing with the great fires, only to be reborn where it had all begun: a small, obscure island on the southern part of the valyrian peninsula, where the only thing worth mentioning was the huge, dormant volcano that sat comfortably atop a mountain in its middle.

Drogon had brought her there, she realized once she woke up, to be reborn.

The dagger on her chest- it had not been a nightmare.

It had truly happened: Jon Snow had killed her.

***

Daenerys cried herself to sleep that night. She knew her tears would not erase what she had done, the lives she had took, the loved ones she had lost.

Oh, how she regretted…to have ever set a foot in Westeros.

Too exhausted even to feel anything, she slept that night- and dreamt. 

Daenerys dreamt like she had never dreamt before.

It had been beautiful. Comforting. Soothing. Only her and her dragons- like it should have been, like it was supposed to be.

Her ambition- to make the world a better place- was her undoing. She should have known- the evil men and women of the world would not allow it. They ate her alive, even before she died and she had been a fool to have noticed their betrayal and to have fallen as she did nevertheless.

Daenerys knew Cersei would be leaving. She knew Tyrion would, undoubtedly, found a way to help his sister. Sneaking in his brother, maybe even arranging a boat to set sail...she knew and she decided to put a stop at it. 

It was personal.

She burnt the streets, the obvious escape routes. She had studied the city with Greyworm. She knew where to burn and where not to burn, but then...something happened, something changed.

She watched herself burning even more than what was needed and not understanding why she was doing. 

By the time she finally stopped, it was too late: the caskets of wildfire had been ignited.

Cersei had played her one last time.

Daenerys knew what it meant. She would be called the Mad King´s daughter, the butcher of King´s Landing, the Dragon bitch….she would be vilified, her actions taken out of context and proportion, her intentions, misrepresented.

In her victory, she had lost it all.

Perhaps out of a strange sense of duty, Daenerys felt she could explain that exceptional moment as part of the plan. The first step into a new order- the nobles would think twice before defying her.

_ In years to come _ , Daenerys told herself that day,  _ it will be considered the end of the wars, not as a massacre. _

But Daenerys had no time to pay her debts with future good deeds; Jon Snow had killed. No more chains to be broken or council of citizens to be established: they would remember her as a foreigner queen who killed thousands, and instead of singing praises about the valour and bravery of her foreign army, Westeros would tell a different story, one that would cast the bronze-skinned horsemen as nothing more than barbarians on a killing spree and the legions of her spearmen as bloodthirsty eunuchs.

This is what hurt her more, to know the people he who followed her to Westeros had not only paid with their lives but also with their reputations.

***

After that incredible night where her dreams took her to a final conclusion on her life journey, Daenerys woke up a different woman.

She had fought, she had lost, she had died.

Now she would fight no more: she would live.

Live, let live, plant trees and not look back.

***

Daenerys pursuit of a simpler life did not mean turning away from previous responsabilities: after recovering her health, she flew to Meereen where she was pleased to see that Daario had made good on his word and had, as he pledged, seen that the council of citizens organized general elections and the former slaves remained as they were when Daenerys left: as free men, women and children.

There were no more harpies, no more oposition. Daenerys' job had been done there and she was glad to see that she had been the sparkle of a true revolution: those people would never return to a life of bondage.

They were thriving among the adversity. The economy would take years to recover its former size, but so far, so good.

Daenerys flew Drogon every day to patrol their borders, but other than attending some meetings, she took no active role in the government.

The former Queen spent the next months visiting other cities, restoring previous relationships and joining the Dothraki in their celebrations. Her return, while not a secret, was far from being publicized and she preferred this way.

Daenerys was not naive: she knew this state of things would not be permanent. Eventually, she was found by the priests of the Red Temple of Volantis. She joined their cause, on the condition they would never refer to her as Daenerys, but simply as “the dragon rider”, an attempt to confuse and keep her enemies at bay.

To her utter delight, the simple trick worked: for seven years, Daenerys Targaryen lived in various cities of Essos, in blissful, but not total, ignorance of Westeros wars and politics.

Until he found her.

***

It had not been easy, traveling with Arya, but Jon persevered. Still, the memory of the child she once was contrasted with the reality of the woman she had become- bitter reminders of what wars do to people.

Not even years traveling the world had changed Arya. From time to time, Jon had glimpses of his little sister, but those events were so far in between as to not even matter in the great scheme of things. 

Arya was now a Stark and Jon was not.

She did try, though, to break through Jon´s defenses. 

“ Do you want to go spar at the deck?” Arya would invariably ask after they broke their fasts.

It made Jon even sadder, to realize the only moment Arya could freely express herself was when she was fighting, for more often than not, all their conversations ended up with Jon condescendely agreeing with some of his cousin´s smug proclamations before excusing himself and going to bed.

By the end of the second month, Jon was praying to the Gods he did not believe for the ordeal to end.

***

As soon as they docked in the small port of Mantarys, Jon knew his prayers had been answered.

He left Arya at the inn and walked. 

And walked.

And walked.

By the time the Sun went down, Jon finally arrived.

She opened the door herself.

***

Years of this poison inside his chest growing and suffocating him, and now Jon was down on his knees, crying like he did _ that  _ day.

But his tears are not angry; he is not crying out of pain.

He is crying because she is holding him in her arms, her dainty fingers gently stroking his brown, curly hair, while whispering in his ears: 

“You are home now.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> My answer to the prompt: Resurrection with forgiveness (Jonerys endgame)
> 
> The next prompt to be part of this series is : Resurrection with Boatbaby (focus on Boatbaby, although Boatbaby can be in any fic)


End file.
